


The Best of Men

by iwillnotbecaged



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7159379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillnotbecaged/pseuds/iwillnotbecaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Peggy are getting married, and Steve wants his two best friends by his side. The only problem? They kind of hate each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by one of [sonickitty's](http://sonickitty.tumblr.com) tags asking for a post-wedding reception hookup. We'll get there eventually :)
> 
> I've got a couple of chapters written and will be updating haphazardly as I go. That explicit rating gets earned in chapter 2.
> 
> Thanks to pringlesaremydivision for the read-through and for putting up with my incredible neediness. You're the best <3

“Alright, so, I’m getting married.”

Steve stood, shoulders hunched, shifting from foot to foot, facing his two best friends. Who were as far away from each other as they could get and still be on the couch where Steve had asked them to sit.

“We’re aware of that, Steve,” Sam said, arms crossed.

“I helped you pick out the ring,” Bucky added.

“I helped you plan the proposal.”

“Well, I—”

“Yes, yes,” Steve cut them off. “You’ve both been really great. And Peggy said yes, so this is really happening. Which means I need a best man.”

Sam and Bucky both stiffened, pointedly refusing to look anywhere but at Steve, who was refusing to make eye contact with either of them.

“I told Peggy that I wanted to have you guys share the best man duties, but she thinks that’s a really bad idea. She said she didn’t want your never-ending dick-measuring contest to cause any drama at her wedding.”

“Hey—”

“But—”

Steve held his hands up and both of their mouths snapped shut. “Her words, not mine. But here’s the thing — you two are my best friends and I can’t imagine choosing just one of you. So if you can _promise_ to make it work until the reception is over, I’d love to have both of you standing up there with me. Think you can handle that?”

Sam and Bucky exchanged glances.

“Of course, Stevie,” Bucky agreed. “I know how important this day is to you.”

“Yeah, man. We’ll be fine. We’re adults.”

Steve looked a little skeptical, but didn’t push it. “Okay then. Good. Just try to keep the sniping at each other to a minimum, alright? If you guys fuck up, I’ll have to ask Tony, and I really don’t want to do that.”

“You can count on us. Right, Bucky?” Sam shifted on the couch to face Bucky.

“Absolutely.” Bucky looked right back at him, a dare behind his eyes.

They could handle this. Everything would be just fine.

 

Everything was not fine.

Bucky didn’t know the first thing about planning a wedding. Why would he? But Peggy wasn’t moving to New York until the week before the wedding and her maid of honor, Angie, was in Los Angeles. Which meant that he had to help Steve plan the whole thing. With Sam. His co-best man. Who he kind of hated.

Well, hate was a strong word. They had settled into a comfortable state of begrudging indifference with an obvious tinge of dislike over the past two years. It wasn’t like they couldn’t manage to be in the same room together or anything; they just tried to avoid it whenever they could.

And now they were planning a wedding together. Because that was exactly the kind of stress Bucky needed in his life. 

“Why don’t you just google ‘how to deal with wedding stress’ or something?” Natasha asked, flipping through one of the wedding magazines he had bought with her leg folded under her on the couch.

“I tried that. I don’t think creating a ‘wedding countdown’ playlist is really going to help my situation very much.” Bucky kept scrolling through the Buzzfeed list of “101 Tips for Planning the Best Wedding Ever”. It was also not very helpful. “Hire a calligrapher for your invitations? Do people actually do that?”

“Some people, yes. Steve and Peggy, probably not.”

He closed his laptop and collapsed back on the couch with a sigh. “Why am I doing this?”

“Because Steve is your best friend who would do absolutely anything for you and you love him and want to be a part of a very important day in his life?”

“Well, when you put it like that.” He levered himself off the couch with a groan and went to grab a beer from the fridge. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He popped the top off of the bottle with his metal hand, threw it away and headed back to the living room.

“Isn’t Sam supposed to be helping with all of this too?”

Bucky’s mouth twisted and he reopened his laptop. “Yes. All three of us are meeting up to start putting together a plan tomorrow.”

“Then why are you stressing out about it tonight?” The sound of pages flipping paused.

Bucky wouldn’t meet Natasha’s eyes. “I want to be prepared. I don’t want to let Steve down.”

“Uh huh. And this has nothing to do with you proving anything to Sam.” He could hear the smirk in her voice, but didn’t give her the satisfaction of looking up.

“I don’t need to prove anything to Sam. He can go on thinking I’m an irresponsible slutty mess for as long as he wants. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“I really don’t think that he thinks you’re slutty.”

Bucky glared at her. “He told Steve I was using sex as a coping mechanism and that it was ‘unhealthy’. I heard him!”

Natasha went back to flipping through the magazine. “I still think there was more to that conversation that you just didn’t hear. It really doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Sam would say.”

“Of course not. Sam is perfect and always has the best advice and knows exactly what everyone needs all the time.”

Natasha leaned over and hit him in the back of the head with the magazine.

“Hey!”

“Quit putting words in my mouth. I just think you and Sam have a lot more in common than you think and that if you could just get over whatever your deal is with him, you guys would really get along.”

“I’m not the one who needs to get over anything. He just needs to stop being a dick.”

“Whatever you say. Are we gonna spend the rest of the night whining about wedding shit, or are we gonna go out?”

Bucky finished off his beer and stood up. “Let’s go out. I need to get laid.”

Natasha took the hand he held out and pulled herself up. “Spoken like a true paragon of non-slutty responsibility.”

Bucky gave her his best flirty smirk. “What can I say? It would be a crime for me to deprive the good people of New York of my company and totally hot body.”

“Uh huh. Let’s go.”

 

Bucky woke up the next morning, body aching in the pleasant way that reminded him that he had had really great sex the night before. The guy he had hooked up with was long gone, but that was unsurprising. They had both been crystal clear about what they wanted, and from the noises the guy had made, Bucky was pretty sure he had been just as satisfied by the encounter as Bucky was.

He rolled over and stretched, groping on the nightstand for his phone. 

“Shit.” He was supposed to meet Steve and Sam in 15 minutes, and he was definitely going to be late. He skipped the shower and grabbed clothes that seemed at least relatively clean. He pulled his hair back into a bun, trying to smooth it out as much as possible, and ran down the stairs, hoping that he would at least have good luck with the subway and wouldn’t be horribly late.

He rushed into the coffee shop only 10 minutes after the time they had agreed on, but Sam and Steve were both already seated with cups of coffee in front of them. He arranged his body and face, aiming for nonchalant, determined not to let any comments from Sam ruffle him.

“There he is!” Steve stood up from the table to give him a hug. Steve gave him a lot of hugs now, apparently trying to make up for the years they had been separated. 

“Here I am.” He rested his chin on the top of Steve’s head the way he knew he hated and hugged him back. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries. You never were much of a morning person.” Steve let go and settled back in his seat. “Go get yourself some coffee, and then we can get started.”

Bucky got his coffee and came back to the table, where Steve and Sam already had laptops out and papers spread over the surface. He sat down, ready to get to work.

Sam was staring at him. “What?”

“You got a little something on your neck.”

Bucky reached up and felt the tender spot on the side of his neck. He’d forgotten about that. He gave Sam the most confident smirk he could muster. “What can I say? It was a good night.”

“I’m sure it was,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. He added something else under his breath that Bucky didn’t quite catch, but Steve broke in before he could push it.

“Okay! So, today is all about putting together a plan of attack. Peggy and I skyped last night and looked at about a billion different checklists, so we’ve got an idea of what really matters. We just need to figure out who’s in charge of what and create a timeline of when everything needs to happen.”

“Sounds good. I looked at some stuff last night, too. You guys aren’t gonna hire a calligrapher to do your invitations, or anything ridiculous like that, are you?” He pointedly kept his focus on Steve.

“I’m surprised you had time to think about wedding planning in the midst of your sexcapades.”

Bucky took a breath. He was here for Steve; he would make this work. He turned to Sam and smiled. “I’m really good at multitasking.”

“No, Buck, we’re not doing anything like that. We both want to keep it pretty simple - flowers, food, cake, just the regular stuff.”

“Sounds good. And you can definitely count on me for cake tasting,” Sam offered with a grin. Steve laughed, and Bucky bit back a snide comment about having to fit into a tux. See? He could be the bigger man.

“Sure, Sam. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky picked up one of the checklists that was on the table. “From what I read last night, it seems like the first big thing is to pick a venue. Did you and Peggy talk about any ideas?”

They spent the next hour or so looking at the different venue options and setting up appointments to go see places. Then they created their own checklist (no calligrapher included) and set due dates for themselves. Steve seemed to be in his natural element - taking charge, planning strategy, giving orders. By the time they left the coffee shop and parted ways, Bucky was beginning to think this whole wedding planning thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where we earn that explicit rating, folks.
> 
> Thanks again to pringlesaremydivision for checking it over and to everyone on tumblr who encouraged me when I was flailing about writing the porny bits. Y'all are great :)

If Sam had to listen to one more event coordinator talk about careful restorations and historical details and exposed brick, he might kill someone. Maybe himself.

“How can every single wedding venue in Brooklyn be ‘unique and authentic’? Especially when they all look the same?” Sam muttered as they climbed the stairs from the subway for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“Don’t forget ‘charming’. They’ve all been very, very charming,” Bucky chimed in.

They’d been touring potential venues with Steve all day, and it appeared that Bucky was just as tired as Sam was.

“Absolutely. If you consider the homogeneous, gentrified aesthetic charming.” Bucky huffed a laugh at that and Sam actually cracked a smile.

“What’s this? My best men actually getting along for a change?” Steve came up from behind them and slung his arms around their necks, which was quite a feat considering they were both a good six inches taller than him.

“Yeah, well, facing a common enemy and all that.” Sam extricated himself from Steve’s grip and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Seriously, man, how many more of these places are we gonna look at?”

“We’ve just got one more, and don’t worry, I saved the best for last. Plus it’s close to the Valkyrie, so we can reward ourselves with drinks when we’re done.”

Drinks would be good, and the comfort of their usual bar after a long day of touring refurbished warehouses and renovated brownstones would be even better. Bucky gestured in front of them. “Well then, by all means, lead the way.”

 

The coordinator at the final location used at least 50% fewer buzzwords than any of the others, which was a major plus in Sam’s book. 

“Depending on how many guests you have, your wedding can be in either the wine cellar or the atrium. Most people choose to do a pretty informal ceremony with their guests standing and creating an aisle that way, but it is possible to set up rows of chairs if you prefer.” Maria led them through the restaurant to the atrium in the back. She seemed like exactly the kind of no-nonsense person that Sam would want in charge of an important life event.

“All of the ingredients in our food are sustainably grown, harvested, and locally sourced. If you choose us for your event, we’ll work with you to customize a menu that meets all your guests’ needs.”

“Aw, does that mean I won’t get to go cake tasting?” That was the one thing Sam had really been looking forward to. He could see Bucky shaking his head at him out of the corner of his eye.

“We are happy to provide dessert as part of the meal, but you are also welcome to bring in a cake from somewhere else. No other outside catering or alcohol, though.”

“Oh, of course,” Steve said. “Thank you, Maria. This is all really beautiful. Can you give us a minute?” 

“Absolutely. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.” She walked back towards the front of the restaurant, leaving them alone in the atrium. It was a beautiful space - glass walls and ceiling that gave them a view of the garden out back, lights criss-crossing over their heads, shiny wood floors that Sam could almost see his reflection in.

Sam turned to Steve once Maria was out of earshot. “You really did save the best for last. And Maria seems great.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome.” Sam could hear the leer in Bucky’s voice.

“Jesus, Barnes, keep it in your pants.”

“What? You can say she’s great, but when I do, it must mean I want to fuck her?”

“Shut up, both of you,” Steve interrupted. “I’m gonna face time Peg, see what she thinks. And I _don’t_ want you two arguing in the background. Just keep it together for a few more minutes.”

Sam and Bucky stood awkwardly next to each other while Steve did his best to show Peggy around the place. Sam drafted the beginnings of a half dozen sentences in his head, feeling like he should fill the silence, but ended up rejecting all of them. Bucky shifted his weight next to him, not saying anything either.

Steve finished his call with Peggy and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Alright, guys, looks like this is the place! All we’ve gotta do now is finalize things with Maria.”

“Awesome, Steve.” Sam slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “This place is gonna be perfect.”

“Come on, let’s go finish up,” Bucky said, leading the way. “I think we all need a drink.”

Well, that was one thing they could agree on.

 

As far as Steve knew, the first time Sam and Bucky met was when the three of them got together at the Valkyrie for drinks a few weeks after Bucky was discharged. Sam _actually_ met Bucky a little earlier than that.

Sarah had dragged him out to a new club she had heard about, and then promptly ditched him for a guy she found on the dance floor. He didn’t blame her; the man was gorgeous, the sweat on his deep brown skin glinting under the lights in the club. He watched them for a minute, admiring the sway of hips and shifting muscles under his tight t-shirt.

Checking out the guy dancing with his sister was just a bit too much for him, though, so he forced himself to scan the room instead. He caught a white guy at the end of the bar looking and Sam tipped his glass in his direction. It was a bit of a risk — you never knew for sure how someone might take that — but one that paid off. The guy maintained eye contact as he sucked down the rest of his beer, cheeks hollowing and throat working in a filthily enticing manner.

Sam watched as the man pushed off from the bar and made his way over. His long, dark hair hung down to his shoulders and the red henley under his leather jacket looked like it was about to burst at the seams. Sam figured the guy must be burning up in that jacket, but there was no outward indication of any discomfort. His walk was purposeful and his posture screamed military, as did the metal prosthetic hand peeking out of the sleeve of his jacket that Sam noticed as he approached. 

“Hey.” His voice was low and gruff, and Sam could barely hear him over the pounding music. “I’m James.”

Sam stepped closer to James, invading his personal space a bit just to test the waters. “Hi, James. Sam.” He finished off his drink and licked his lips, crowing inside when James’s eyes followed the motion.

“You having a good night?” he asked innocently.

“I think things are starting to improve.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

“Well, you see, there’s this really hot guy here and I think he might be flirting with me.” James looked at him from under his eyelashes and gave him a flirtatious smirk. Sam wondered fleetingly how often he had practiced that, but mostly just enjoyed the heat it sent through him. This guy was good.

“Oh is he? You gonna do anything about it?” Sam let his desire show on his face. He already had James’s interest; there was no point in trying to be coy.

“You know what? I think I am.” James reached over and took Sam’s drink from his hand, setting it on the bar. “Dance with me.”

“Bossy. I like that.” James’s eyebrows shot up at that. Sam gave him a filthy smile and let himself be dragged towards the dance floor.

James was an excellent dancer and an even better kisser and Sam was getting more and more turned on by the minute. So much so that when James leaned in and whispered in his ear, asking if he wanted to get out of there, he didn’t hesitate for a minute. He pulled out his phone to text Sarah, but saw that she had already sent him one to let him know that she was leaving half an hour before. The Wilson kids were doing pretty well for themselves this evening.

Before he knew it, Sam was in his apartment, back against the door and eyes shut as James kissed him greedily. James had pinned his wrists above his head, and while Sam was pretty sure he could have broken out of his grip if he wanted to, he very much did not want to.

James sucked on his neck, and Sam shivered and moaned in response. His flesh hand left his wrists and trailed down his arm and side, sliding under the hem of his shirt and playing with the waistband of his jeans. Sam bucked his hips in encouragement, but James reversed course, pushing Sam’s shirt up as he traced his hand over his stomach and chest. He might have been embarrassed at how heavily he was panting if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Take it off,” Sam begged, opening his eyes to meet James’s, blown wide with arousal.

“Yeah?” he rumbled, pulling Sam’s shirt up a little more. Sam nodded, pressing up into James’s hand, forcing James to tighten the grip his metal hand had on his wrists.

James pulled the shirt up and over Sam’s head, releasing his hands to pull it off and then slamming them back into the door, leaning in even closer and wedging a thigh in between Sam’s legs. “You want me to take mine off too?”

Sam whimpered at the pressure of James’s thigh and rolled his hips. “If you want,” he managed to gasp out. “But I like the jacket. It looks, _oh god_ — looks good on you.”

“Oh yeah?” James leaned in to kiss him again, then whispered in his ear. “You want me to leave it all on? Just pull my cock out and fuck you against the door? Strip you down and pound into you with my leather jacket and my boots still on?”

Sam groaned and tried not to come in his pants like a damn teenager. “Yes, yes, all of that.”

James pulled back and looked at him. “Damn, I got lucky tonight.”

“Not yet, you haven’t. Come on, get to it.” Sam fished a packet of lube out of his pocket and shoved it into James’s hand, reminding himself to thank Sarah for tossing it at him in the cab on the way to the club.

James laughed at that and kissed him again. “Alright, alright, let’s get you out of those jeans.”

The moment of levity passed and the tension ratcheted back up when James opened Sam’s jeans and yanked them down, underwear and all. He kicked off his shoes, then the rest of his clothes, just in time for James to spin him around.

“Hands against the door,” James commanded, pulling Sam’s hips back to bend him over. He heard James open the packet of lube, and then there were fingers teasing his hole.

Sam groaned, head dropping in between his shoulders. James’s finger circled slowly.

“You like that?”

“Yeah, I like that,” Sam breathed out and shifted his hips back, trying to fuck himself onto that finger.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” James pulled back, teasing Sam even more.

“Who you calling little?” He turned his head back over his shoulder and fixed James with a look. In response, James shoved his finger in up to the knuckle.

Sam gasped at the intrusion, the feeling of being stretched. James stroked his other hand up his back and then leaned over and kissed the back of his neck. The cool metal made Sam shiver.

“That okay?” There was a tinge of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam reassured him. “Very okay. Keep going.”

James worked his finger in and out, then added another. It was fast and slightly rough, just like Sam wanted. He let himself fall into the sensation, his attention narrowed to the feeling of James’s fingers shoving into him over and over, working him open. It got even better when James reached around and started stroking his cock, fast and tight, the feel of the metal adding an extra layer of sensation.

“Come on, come on,” Sam moaned. “Fuck me already. I’m ready— I want it.”

James removed his fingers and Sam whimpered at the loss. James gave his ass a smack in response.

“So impatient. Give me a sec to get a condom on, then I’ll give you what you want.” Sam heard him rip the condom open and then the slick sound of lube as James fisted his cock. Sam arched his back, tilting his hips up in encouragement.

Finally, _finally_ , he felt the blunt head of James’s cock against him, pushing in slowly but steadily. Sam breathed out a groan, enjoying the stretch and the fullness as James sunk into him. It felt amazing and Sam unthinkingly reached down to stroke himself.

James snatched his wrist away and pressed his hand back up against the door. “Hands. Against. The door,” he growled, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips. “You’re gonna need both arms to brace yourself.”

“I’m hearing a whole lot of talk and not feeling a whole lot of action.” Sam wanted to provoke James, but he suspected that his heavy breathing lessened the impact.

James just laughed. “I’ll show you action.” He pulled out almost entirely, and then slammed back into Sam. 

“Yessss,” Sam hissed. He was pretty sure he was seeing actual stars and it was _perfect_. So was the next thrust. And the next. Soon enough James was pounding into him just like he had promised, the denim of his jeans rubbing against Sam’s ass with each thrust, the leather of his jacket rubbing against his sides when James leaned over him to spill filthy words into his ear.

When James finally reached around and started jerking him off again, he was done for. Just a few strokes and he was coming all over the floor, moaning loud enough that he hoped the neighbors were enjoying the show. James’s thrusts become more erratic and everything went a little hazy when James slammed into him one last time, coming with a groan.

Sam was still leaning against the door catching his breath when James pulled out, peeled the condom off, and tucked himself back into his jeans. He straightened up and turned around.

James held up the condom. “Trash can?”

“In the kitchen.” Sam managed to wave in the general direction. James threw away the condom and then brought back the dish towel that had been hanging off of the stove and tossed it at Sam. It was as good as anything else, so Sam wiped himself off, and then, with a grimace, cleaned up the mess on the floor. When he finished, he grabbed his underwear from the pile of clothes and pulled them back on.

James looked decidedly unruffled and already had his phone out. “This was awesome, man, but I should probably be heading home.”

“You could stay for a bit if you want.”

“I appreciate it, but my roommate’s a worrier. I just got back from Afghanistan, and he doesn’t really like to let me out of his sight.”

“That’s...kinda weird for a roommate, actually.”

“Nah, we’ve known each other forever. He’s letting me crash at his place until I get settled.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. It’s good that you have someone to help you with the transition.”

James looked up from his phone at that. “You serve too?”

“58th pararescue. Two tours.”

“Cool.” He slid his phone into his pocket. “It was great meeting you, but like I said, I really should go.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand.” Sam hadn’t planned on this being anything more than a hook-up, but now that the night was ending, he found himself disappointed. He liked James. And that had been some really great sex.

“Before you go, let me give you my number.” James looked unsure. “No pressure or anything, but at least you’ll have one person in New York that you can call if you need anything.”

James looked down at the floor for a moment, hair obscuring his face. He appeared to come to a decision, because he picked his head up, pulled his phone back out of his pocket, and handed it to Sam.

“Sure. Go ahead and put yourself in.” Sam did, then headed over to the door, kicking the pile of clothes out of the way. He opened it, making sure to stand so that he would be mostly covered in case anyone walked by.

“I won’t keep you any longer. It was really nice to meet you, James.”

James surprised him by leaning in for one last kiss, cupping the back of Sam’s head gently. “It was nice to meet you, too, Sam.”

And then he was gone.

 

James had never called, and Sam figured that was the end of things. He was a little bummed, but it wasn’t exactly unexpected.

What _was_ unexpected was showing up to drinks with Steve and his childhood best friend to find James sitting at the table.

“Hey, Sam!” Steve wrapped him up in a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it! I know how busy you’ve been with school and everything lately. Anyway, I’m so excited for you to finally meet Bucky!” He gestured towards James, who was showing no indication that he recognized Sam at all.

James reached out and offered a handshake. “Hey, I’m Bucky. You must be Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sam shook his hand, trying not to let his confusion show. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

The evening was awkward, but apparently only for Sam. Steve kept the conversation running and James— _Bucky_ didn’t seem to be out of sorts either. Eventually Steve got up to go to the restroom, and they were alone at the table.

“So,” Sam started, arms crossed in front of him. “Who the hell is _Bucky_? And what happened to James?”

“Bucky’s a nickname.” He shrugged. “I go by James most of the time, but Steve never really got the hang of it, so with him and any of his friends, it’s just easier to go by Bucky.”

“And the reason we’re pretending this is the first time we’ve met?”

“Well, I mean, it kind of is. Hooking up isn’t really the same as meeting someone.” Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, if I had known you were the same Sam that Steve always talked about, I probably wouldn’t have fucked you, but what’s done is done. Let’s just move on.”

“Don’t you think it’ll be kind of weird, keeping it from Steve?”

“Why would it be? I don’t exactly give Steve all the details of my sex life. Do you?”

Since he’d broken up with Leila a month ago, Sam hadn’t had much of a sex life to talk about, but he wasn’t going to tell Bucky that. “No, obviously. It just feels...I don’t know... _weird_.” He uncrossed his arms and started toying with the cardboard coaster.

“It’s only weird if we make it weird. And I’m not gonna make it weird. So really it’s up to you.”

Sam stiffened at the challenge. “Fine. It won’t be weird.”

Bucky gave him an arrogant smile, like he knew he had won. “Fine.”

 

It hadn’t been weird, but it definitely hadn’t been the start of a beautiful friendship, either. Steve was obviously hoping that Sam and Bucky would hit it off and that they would become a happy trio of best friends, but Sam never felt as comfortable with Bucky as he had felt that first night with James. He knew that it made him snarkier and less patient with Bucky than he would have been with anyone else, but he couldn’t help it. The guy just rubbed him the wrong way.

He felt like he had done a decent job of keeping things civil, though. It wasn’t like they were constantly playing tug-of-war over Steve or trying to sabotage his friendship with the other one. It was just easier if they hung out with Steve on their own, rather than all together. Shared custody, if you will. It had been working just fine before they started all this wedding planning business, and as soon as Steve and Peggy left for their honeymoon, everything would go back to business as usual. Sam couldn’t wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has taken on a life of its own, so you can probably expect daily updates until it's finished. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks again to pringlesaremydivision for the read through

“So Peggy really doesn’t care what kind of flowers we get?” From what Bucky had seen in romantic comedies, flowers were ones of those things women usually went bridezilla over. Not that he watched a lot of romcoms. It was just a cultural awareness thing.

“Nah, she doesn’t.” Steve said, looking over the various arrangements out on display in the shop. “Flowers have never really been her thing, and she said she trusts my eye. I mean, I do have an art degree. It’s not like I’m going to pick something hideous that clashes with the venue or anything.”

“If you need to make sure nothing clashes, why did you bring Sam along too? I mean, have you seen the way he dresses?”

“Fuck you, man,” Sam said, without venom. “Just because I don’t spend two hours every day wiggling into my skinny jeans and playing with my hair in the mirror doesn’t mean I can’t put together an outfit.”

“Thank god you don’t wear skinny jeans. No one wants to see that.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. I’m gonna go find the florist. Try not to kill each other.”

Bucky wandered around the shop, looking at all the different labels. There was a sign on one of the counters explaining the symbolism of some of the more popular flowers - red roses for romantic love, yellow roses for friendship, amaryllis for splendid beauty.

It gave Bucky an idea and he did some quick googling on his phone. It only took him a few minutes to track down what he wanted.

“Hey, Sam.”

“What?” Sam turned away from the prearranged bouquets he’d been looking at.

“I have something for you.” Bucky held out the yellow carnation.

Sam took it hesitantly, confusion obvious on his face. “O...kay. Thanks?”

“No problem.” Bucky grinned. “Did you know that all flowers have meaning?”

“Is that so?” Confusion gave way to suspicion.

“Yep.” Bucky rocked back onto his heels, hands in his pockets.

“And what, pray tell, do yellow carnations mean?”

“Oh, you know. Disdain.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re hilarious.” He shoved the flower into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky gasped in mock offense, refusing to take back the flower. “Sam! Do you not want my gift?” He turned and called to Steve, who was still talking with the florist. “Hey, Steve! I gave Sam a flower and he totally rejected it!” He turned back to Sam, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Why you always gotta be so mean to me, Sam? Turning down such a thoughtful gift.”

“Oh my god, you are an actual child, aren’t you? Where did you even get this?” Sam brushed past Bucky and stalked over to the bucket of carnations to return the flower. Bucky was still laughing hysterically when Steve walked up, arms crossed and face unamused.

“Do you think we could maybe take things seriously for a few minutes? I really want to get this taken care of and we’ve still gotta make it to the tailor after we finish up here.”

Bucky’s smile faded. “Of course, of course, Steve. I’m sorry, I’ll quit goofing off.”

Steve took his glasses off and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It’s alright, Buck. I just, I’ve got a lot on my plate this week at work and all this wedding stuff and, well…” He put his glasses back on and shrugged. “I just really miss Peggy.”

Bucky pulled Steve into a hug, rubbing his back to try to ease some of the tension. “I know you do, punk. But she’ll be here before you know it and then you’ll get hitched and you can spend the rest of your lives together, getting sick to death of each other.”

Steve laughed. “She might get sick of me, but I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of her.”

“No one could get sick of you, Stevie.” Bucky pulled back, but kept one arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Come on, Sam. Let’s help the man pick out some flowers.”

 

They finally came to a decision on the flowers — white ranunculus and eucalyptus leaves for the bouquets and centerpieces, just the flowers for the boutineers — and then went to grab some lunch before heading to the tailor. 

Bucky groaned when he bit into his burger. Two years back, and he was still so, so grateful whenever he got to eat something like this.

“You two need a minute alone over there?” Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, we’re good here. Feel free to enjoy the show.” He took another huge bite.

“I think I may have lost my appetite. You do remember that we’re going to get fitted for suits after this, right? You go in with a giant food baby, your suit’s gonna fit all wrong on the big day.”

“Totally worth it,” Bucky replied, not bothering to swallow first.

“Gross, man.” Bucky just grinned. Nothing was going to damper his enjoyment of this burger.

Steve just shook his head at both of them. “Oh hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. Were you ever able to get in touch with Alejandra?”

Bucky finished chewing before answering this time. “Yeah, I did. We’re having lunch later this week. Thanks again for setting that up.”

“No problem. I wish I could do more—”

“Quit worrying about it. You’ve done more than enough, and it’s not like you exactly have a ton of time right now.”

“I didn’t think you needed Steve’s help to set up dates,” Sam said.

Bucky kicked him under the table. “I don’t. This isn’t a date, it’s business.”

“Alejandra’s a friend of mine who works in publishing.”

Sam looked curious. “What business do you have with someone in publishing?”

Steve jumped in before he could say anything. “Oh, didn’t you know? Bucky wrote a book!”

“A book?” Bucky could hear the incredulity in Sam’s voice.

“What? Surprised to find I’m more than just an irresponsible party boy?”

“I mean, yeah? It’s not like you ever talk about anything else. Or show up anywhere on time.”

“You know, just because I don’t constantly tell everyone I meet about my classes and my charity work and my future in education like you do, doesn’t mean I don’t actually have things I care about besides getting laid. And I was at the florist before you were this morning, asshole.”

“Anyway,” Steve interjected before they could really get going. “It’s this really great kid’s book, about a bunch of kids with high-tech prosthetics who go around New York rescuing people and catching criminals. It’s got illustrations of the kids being awesome while wearing their prosthetics and everything.”

“Did you do the art, too?”

Bucky shifted in his seat and pushed his fries around on his plate. “Uh, no. I just wrote the story. A friend of Steve’s from art school did the illustrations.”

“Crime-fighting kids with prosthetics. Neat.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Look, whatever man. I know it’s not a PhD or whatever the hell you’re working on these days, but I’m proud of it.”

“No no no!” Sam protested, eyebrows drawn close together. “I wasn’t being sarcastic, Bucky. It’s a really cool idea. Seriously.”

“Oh.” Bucky relaxed slightly. “Um, thanks.” He went back to playing with his fries. “It’s really not that big a deal, I just — most prosthetics are still really shitty, especially the ones for kids, and I can’t do much to improve them, but I figured if kids could at least see someone like them doing some awesome shit, they might feel a little better about having one. Plus writing it gave me something to pass the time.”

“I’m sure they will,” Steve assured him. “And it’s a very big deal. Quit selling yourself short, Buck.”

“Absolutely,” Sam agreed. “It means a lot to a kid to see someone who looks like them being a hero. I would know.”

Bucky looked at Sam then. There wasn’t a trace of insincerity in his face, and Bucky’s gut did something weird he didn’t really want to think about too much. “Yeah, I guess you would. Thanks. I’m not gonna get my hopes up, though. The publisher might end up hating it.”

Steve reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. “No way. Alejandra’s gonna love it and her bosses are gonna love it and thousands — no, _millions_ of kids are gonna love it. It’ll spawn a whole series and a movie franchise and change the world.” Steve grinned at him, like he fully believed every word he said.

“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky smiled softly at him for a moment, and then knocked his hand off his shoulder. “Now shut up and let me finish my burger, punk.” 

Steve just laughed. “Sure thing, jerk.”

 

Bucky gave a low whistle when they walked into the tailor’s shop; there was some seriously gorgeous menswear in the room. Not that he had anywhere to wear suits like these, but a man could dream.

“See, Sam,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the displays in the shop. “This is how a man should dress.”

Sam just flipped him off and walked over to a table full of really nice ties. Really really nice ties.

Bucky went up to one mannequin sporting a particularly classy three-piece suit and flipped over the price tag.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How exactly are we paying for these?”

“Oh, uh…” Steve scratched the back of his head. “Tony’s got it covered. He wanted it to be his present and well, you know how he is when he gets an idea in his head. This is his tailor actually.”

“Well, okay then.” It was still weird to Bucky sometimes that Steve had somehow become friends with Tony Stark while he was overseas, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A saleswoman approached them, wearing a suit that looked like it cost about what Bucky could earn in a year. “What can I help you gentlemen with today?”

“Yeah, Steve, what are we looking for?”

Steve ran a hand through the lock of hair that always fell over his forehead and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Um, well, tuxedos?”

“Tuxedos,” Bucky repeated. “Really?”

“I know informal suits are a bit more popular these days, but Peggy requested tuxes. Our lives aren’t exactly full of black tie events, so she said this was her big chance to see me looking like a classic movie star.”

The tips of Steve’s ears were turning red. Bucky knew he was thinking that he’d never look like a movie star, no matter what he was wearing, because Steve was an idiot.

“It’s not black tie for the guests or anything, just us,” Steve continued, looking sheepish.

“Well, if Peggy wants classic Hollywood, let’s give her classic Hollywood.” He turned towards the saleswoman and gave her his most debonair smile. “Looks like we’re gonna need some tuxedos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am shamelessly handwaving how the process of being fitted for a tuxedo works in this chapter. Forgive me.

Sam tried to pay attention to the tiny old man who was measuring him, but he was finding it difficult. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his tuxedo fitting right; it was that Bucky was being so damn distracting.

Sam could hear him flirting with the woman taking his measurements, nevermind the fact that she was probably 70 years old. He knew firsthand just how charming Bucky could be when he wanted to, and he was really pouring it on thick today.

“Whaddaya say, Lidia? You wanna be my date to this thing?”

Lidia tutted at him, shaking her head.

“Aw, come on. A suit as nice as one of these wouldn’t be complete without a pretty girl on my arm. It’ll be great — we can watch Steve over there get married, drink some wine, take a few turns around the dance floor. I bet you’re a fabulous dancer.”

“And I bet that those pretty blue eyes of yours will turn brown any minute now, as full of shit as you are. Now hold still.”

“Anything for you, Lidia.”

Sam rolled his eyes; the man never stopped. Adding to his frustration was also the fact that because of the way the mirrors were arranged, Sam had an unimpeded view of Bucky. Who was facing the other direction. Meaning Sam could either look at the ceiling, look at his shoes, or look at Bucky’s well-defined back and ass as he tried on a number of different very high-quality tuxedos.

And Bucky was milking this experience for all it was worth. While Sam was willing to let the tailor’s assistant take his measurements and follow his recommendation for which tux would suit him best, Bucky insisted on trying on practically every single suit in the shop. Over and over again, he had to watch him come out of the changing room, step up onto the pedestal, adjust the jacket, and check himself out in the mirror.

It was really fucking distracting. He realized a bit too late that Steve was talking to him.

“Hm? Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked what you thought about this one.” Sam tore his eyes from the mirror and looked over at Steve, who was fidgeting with the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Well, you definitely don’t look ridiculous.” He looked amazing, actually. The slim fit of the tuxedo suited his narrow frame, and the blue of the tie they had put on him really brought out his eyes. “If I didn’t know it was completely hopeless, I’d try to steal you for myself.”

“Even if it wasn’t hopeless, Peggy would definitely kill you if she thought you were even considering trying.” Bucky came up behind Sam, also in a tuxedo that perfectly suited his frame and a tie that emphasized his eyes. It really wasn’t fair.

“Give us a spin, Stevie. Show us the goods.”

Steve blushed and glared at him, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Bucky replied, twirling his finger at him.

Steve sighed, and spun around slowly. “Well?”

“Perfect. Your ass looks great in those pants.”

“My scrawny ass doesn’t look great in any pants, jerk.”

Bucky turned to Sam for support. “Tell the man his ass is not even in the realm of scrawny.”

Sam made a show of considering Steve and his ass. “I hate to say this, but Bucky’s right.” 

“Can I get that in writing? Did anyone record that?” Bucky tried to interject, but Sam just ignored him and kept going.

“I think that’s the one. You look like you walked right off a red carpet.”

Steve’s blush had reached epic proportions. “You two are ridiculous. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

Sam’s alarm went off much too early the following Friday. He’d been up late working on his thesis the night before and had no desire to get out of bed. He almost turned the alarm off and went back to sleep until he remembered why he was waking up so goddamn early: it was finally cake tasting day.

“Where’s Bucky?” Sam asked as he and Steve settled in at the small table the bakery used for tastings.

“Just us today. He’s had a doctor’s appointment for his arm.”

“Is everything alright?” Bucky’s prosthesis was advanced, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t still malfunction. Plus any malfunction it might have was exponentially more dangerous than if he had a more traditional prosthesis.

“Oh yeah, it’s just his regular check up. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh.” Sam looked down at the list of flavors they’d been handed when they came in.

“Disappointed he’s not here?” Steve was smirking at him.

“What? No.” That feeling in his gut was hunger, not disappointment. “Just mentally preparing. I take my cake tasting duties very seriously, you know.”

Steve shook his head. “Yes, Sam, I know. You’ve only been talking about it since I showed you the ring.”

“Exactly. Now, I’m thinking we definitely need to try the hazelnut-almond cake with the chocolate mousse filling. The orange thyme cake with citrus curd also sounds like an interesting idea, although that may be an overwhelming amount of citrus. Maybe vanilla buttercream instead of the citrus curd? Go for a kind of dreamsicle idea?”

Steve laughed. “You’ve clearly thought a lot more about this than I have. I’ll defer to your expertise.”

“Excellent. Now where’s the girl who brings us cake?”

 

“So, how’ve you been?” Monica asked, once Sam had settled himself on the couch in her office, throw pillow in his lap. He liked that it gave him something to do with his hands.

“Pretty good, pretty good. Trying to finish up my thesis right now, which has been kinda stressful, but not in a bad way, really.”

“That’s good. Anything new on the job front for the fall?”

“Not yet. I’ve got my application in the pool, but it’s unlikely that I’ll hear anything until after the end of this school year. They have to see who’s staying and who’s leaving and who wants a transfer and all of that before they hire any new people.”

“The waiting game can be difficult for a lot of people.” Monica often framed things that way — making statements about people in general rather than asking Sam direct questions. He liked that about her.

“Yeah, I can get worried about it sometimes, but I’ve gotten pretty good at talking myself back down.”

Monica nodded. “Good. I’m glad that’s working for you.”

“Plus helping Steve plan his wedding has been a nice distraction.”

“Oh really? I seem to remember you being concerned about it before.”

“Yeah, I was, but it’s been good.” Sam flipped the pillow. “I mean, you hear all these horror stories about trying to plan things like this, but it really hasn’t been bad. Sure, there’s a lot of decisions to make, but Steve and Peggy are both pretty laid back, so it’s not like there have been fights or arguments or anything like that.” He considered for a moment. “It probably helps that I don’t actually have to make any of the final decisions, too.”

Monica laughed. “That does tend to make things easier.”

Sam figured Monica would change the subject, ask him how he’d been sleeping like she usually did or something, but she just waited, watching him. She did this sometimes, and it always made him want to look down and check if he had dripped something on his shirt at lunch.

Monica leaned forward, elbows on her knees. She never took notes during their sessions, instead waiting until after he left, which was another thing Sam liked about her. It made it feel more like a conversation and less like he was being scrutinized.

“The actual planning wasn’t the only thing you were worried about the last time we talked about it. What’s on your mind, Sam?”

Sam flipped the pillow a few more times, then sighed. “Bucky.”

“Has it been difficult to spend more time with him than usual? You mentioned you find him...frustrating.”

“Pretty sure I wasn’t quite that kind.” Sam gave her a wry smile.

“Well, I’m paraphrasing.” Monica waved a hand in the air. “Don’t avoid the question.”

“It’s actually been, um, kinda the opposite?” Sam leaned back into the couch cushions, hoping that maybe they could help him out. They didn’t. “He’s just...he’s different than I thought, I guess. Spending time with him now...it’s made me realize I’ve never actually spent any time with him before. Well, aside from that ill-advised evening when he was James instead of Bucky.”

Monica gave him a look.

“I know, I know - it wasn’t actually ill-advised, I’m allowed to hook-up with people if I want, hindsight is 20/20. It’s just, hanging out with him like this, seeing him around Steve, it reminds me of why I was so drawn to him in the first place. It’s weird.”

“It can be hard when our perception of people is challenged by new information. The fact that it’s a bit uncomfortable shows that you are at least attempting to change your perception of Bucky, which is more than a lot of people do.”

“It’s more than that, though.” Sam looked down at the pillow, tracing the pattern with one finger. “I don’t want to like him.” He hadn’t really realized until he said it, but there it was. 

“Why do you think that is?”

Sam didn’t say anything for a while, and Monica waited for him to try and gather his thoughts.

“That first night, I gave him my number. He never called. The next time we met, he acted like it was nothing and in the two years since, the only time he seems to think of me is when he’s giving me shit about something.” Where was he going with this? “If I hated him, if we hated each other, then it was just whatever. He was the dick who was friends with my friend. But if I like him…”

He trailed off, hoping Monica would jump in, save him from having to say it himself. That wasn’t her style though. He took a deep breath.

“If I like him, then it means I got rejected. Again. And that fucking sucks.”

The only sound in the office was the ticking clock.

“Huh,” he grunted. Monica raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s just— I was mostly just talking right then, not really thinking about what I was saying, but it, it makes sense. I just hadn’t ever really put it together like that before.”

“And now that you have?”

“Now that I have, I guess I have to figure out how to deal with the fact that I really hate getting rejected and it’s causing me to lash out.” Sam dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Ugh, this is gonna suck so hard.”

Monica laughed, but it was kind. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how these things go. Whaddaya say we get to work?”

Sam picked his head up and rolled his shoulders. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do this.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky wandered around the small waiting area in the photography studio, scanning the pictures on the wall. There were a lot of conventionally attractive people gazing lovingly at each other, some families in matching sweaters, even a few dogs.

He settled next to Steve, where he was looking through the photobook of the photographer they were supposed to be meeting with.

“Can I just say I’m really glad that Sam was busy today? It’s been kind of a drag having him around every time I actually get to hang out with you.”

Steve sighed and stopped flipping through the photobook. “Okay, I’m finally gonna ask. What exactly is the deal between you and Sam?”

Bucky just shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Steve.

“Come on, Buck. I haven’t said anything before because I figured you guys would get over whatever it is eventually, but it’s been two years now. You guys are my best friends — it drives me nuts that you don’t get along.”

“Look, man, I don’t know. Sometimes people just don’t click.”

“Except you guys do click! It’s just as soon as you realize you’re getting along, you both stiffen up and then one of you says something dickish and you’re back to sniping at each other. It’s completely ridiculous!”

Bucky turned the page of the photobook, pretending to be enthralled by yet another black and white photo of a smiling white couple in front of a wall covered in street art. Why did all these pictures look so alike? Were people really that unoriginal?

Steve crossed his arms. “I’m waiting, Buck. Talk to me.”

Bucky sighed. He wished Steve would just drop it, but he knew that was hopeless. Apparently he’d had enough and once Steve sunk his teeth into something, he wasn’t gonna let go until he got what he wanted.

“He’s just — he’s really judgemental, okay? Everything I do, everything I say — he always sees it as just another way I’m fucked up.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “That’s...that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Sam’s like, the _least_ judgemental person I’ve ever met.”

Bucky scoffed. “With you, sure. He thinks you’re great. He took one look at me and saw a messed up vet who fucks around and decided I wasn’t worth shit.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Why would Sam see you as a messed up vet, when he’s also a vet _and_ worked at the VA before he went back to school? Seriously, that makes no sense at all.”

“I heard him talking to you about me, okay?” The receptionist looked over at his outburst, and he lowered his voice. “It was maybe the week after we met and we were all hanging out at your apartment. I overheard him telling you that I was using sex as a coping mechanism and that it was unhealthy and would hurt my recovery. And ever since then he makes this, this _face_ anytime I even casually mention going out, this face that’s like, ‘ugh, when is this guy gonna get his shit together?’. What the fuck does he care where I stick my dick? It’s none of his business! And it’s _not_ a coping mechanism and it’s _not_ hurting my recovery and —”

“Buck, Bucky, stop! I know, okay?” Bucky slumped over, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Steve placed a hand on his back. “You’ve been doing great. I know it hasn’t been easy coming back and I know how hard you’ve been working. I knew you in high school, remember? I get that you just really like sex.”

Bucky could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, but he didn’t look up.

“And you’ve got that conversation all wrong. Sam wasn’t talking about you.”

Bucky grunted in disbelief. “Uh huh. Sure he wasn’t.”

Steve punched him. “Hey!” He sat up and rubbed his shoulder.

“He wasn’t, asshole. He was talking to me about somebody in his group at the VA. The guy had told him that he’d been assaulted while he was in, and Sam was worried that he wasn’t being safe when he went out. He was figuring out how to approach it and ran it past me so that I could tell him if it sounded judgemental. I’m pretty sure he specifically started with, ‘hey, will you tell me if this sounds slut-shamey?’”

“That still doesn’t explain the face he always gives me,” Bucky grumbled, wanting to avoid confronting this new information about Sam.

Steve threw up his hands. “You’re impossible. If there is a face — which I don’t think there is — it has nothing to do with judging you. He’s probably just jealous. I think he’s been in a bit of a dry spell since things fizzled out with Leila.”

“Leila? But that was before we even met. That’s a really long dry spell.”

“I don’t know, man. Not everyone’s as open about their sex life as you are. And I still maintain you’re imagining the face to begin with.”

“There’s totally a face.” Bucky rubbed his hand through his hair. “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. Even if he’s not judging me constantly, he still doesn’t like me. It’s not like I’m the only one who’s been a dick in this relationship.”

“Mr. Rogers?” The photographer came out from her office before Steve could say anything. “So sorry to keep you waiting. Come on back and let’s see what I can do for you.”

Steve and Bucky stood up and followed. The walls of the photographer’s office were covered with even more photos of happy couples, although Bucky did have to admit that even the silly poses looked good. It wasn’t the photographer’s fault if people wanted to be cheesy, after all.

“So what are you looking for today? Engagement? Wedding? Both? We have a number of different packages available.”

“Just the ceremony and reception, actually. My fiancée will be in London until the week of the wedding, so no engagement photos.”

“That’s too bad. Well, we also have packages just for the wedding, obviously. What are you thinking as far as budget?”

Bucky let his attention drift as Steve and the photographer hammered out the details, occasionally nodding or humming when appropriate. He knew he should be paying attention, helping Steve, but he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering through all the possible what ifs.

 

Bucky threw himself onto the couch and screamed into one of the many, many throw pillows Nat insisted on keeping in the apartment. Why did they need so many pillows anyway?

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” Natasha whacked him on the head with another pillow as she walked past him to curl up in her chair with her mug of tea. Or maybe it was vodka. It was a 50/50 shot, really.

He turned his head to the side just enough to be heard. “I’m completely fucked.”

Natasha shrugged. “You’ve actually seemed considerably less fucked than usual recently, but that’s none of my business.”

Bucky flipped over and hugged another pillow to his chest. “I fucked Sam.”

Natasha spit out whatever it was she was drinking. Funny — he didn’t think people actually did that.

“You did what!?”

“I fucked Sam.”

“You fucked Sam. Sam Wilson. Steve’s other best friend who you have insisted that you hate for the past two years. That Sam?”

Bucky dragged the pillow over his face and nodded.

“What? When? How?”

Bucky looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “How? Really? You want a play-by-play?”

She threw another pillow at him. Seriously, why were there so many pillows?

“No, I want you to go back to the beginning and _explain_.”

“It’s not what you think. It wasn’t _recently_.” Natasha’s look made it clear that if he valued his life, he should get to the explaining part of things. He sat up and tossed the pillow to the end of the couch.

“It was about a week after I got back to New York. I met him at a club. He was hot, I introduced myself as James, we flirted, we danced, we went back to his place, we fucked. He did the ‘hey, let me give you my number’ thing afterwards, but it was just a hook up; there’s no way he actually meant for me to call.”

Natasha motioned for him to keep going. He clenched and unclenched his fist, watching the plates of his arm shift.

“I had no idea he was the same Sam that Steve was always talking about until we all met up for drinks two weeks later. Steve introduced me as Bucky, I acted like we hadn’t met before, and Sam went along with it. It wasn’t anything serious, so I figured there was no reason to tell Steve all about it.”

“Oh my god, everything makes so much sense now. You are such an idiot.”

“Nat, you know how I was back then — I was a total mess,” Bucky snapped at her in frustration. “Going out, meeting someone, having a good time — it was all part of trying to get back the person I was before I went in. It was something I was good at, something I could control. I wouldn’t apologize for it then and I won’t apologize for it now.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Natasha replied gently. “I’m the last person in the world who would judge you for that.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Bucky scrubbed his hands over his face. “But then Sam did judge me for it, or at least I _thought_ he did.”

“You thought he did? You finally willing to admit that maybe you misconstrued what you heard that night?”

He waved a hand at her. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. It came up with Steve today, and apparently they weren’t talking about me at all.” He sighed. “Doesn’t change the fact that we’ve both been dicks to each other for the past two years.”

“Have you thought about, I don’t know, maybe not being a dick to him anymore?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s pretty much a habit now. And we’ve actually been less dickish and more just, I don’t know, needling each other recently.” A small smile appeared on his face. “He’s actually pretty funny.”

“So now what? You guys finally gonna be friends?”

“I guess. I doubt we could be anything more than that at this point. Too much water under the bridge.”

“Interesting.” Natasha cocked her head at him. “Do you want to be more than friends?”

He flopped back onto the couch with a groan. “I have absolutely no idea.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More shameless handwaving in regards to the actual logistics of wedding planning. Sorry :)
> 
> See the end notes for a slightly spoilery warning.

The weeks leading up to the wedding flew by in a blur. They’d planned everything they could plan, booked everything they could book, decided everything they could decide. Now it was just time to wait and hope that everything came together on the big day.

The stress of finishing his thesis and the uncertainty surrounding his job prospects for the fall had led to an uptick in nightmares over the past few weeks. He was working through it with Monica, but he was tired and his mind was whirling with contingency plans for every little thing that might go wrong involving the wedding. Every last nerve was stretched tight, so he was glad to avoid Bucky and the complicated mess of feelings he now associated with him.

Peggy finally arrived in New York after finishing up her work in London and Steve was over the moon. He was also increasingly nervous about the fact that his wedding was in a week, but Sam wasn’t surprised by that.

Despite Sam’s misgivings, everything went relatively smoothly in that last week. Peggy’s dress ended up needing some last minute alterations, but it would be done by the day of the wedding and all they would have to do was pick it up. His thesis was done, he was finally getting some sleep, and things were looking up. 

Steve had agreed to let Tony plan the bachelor party, despite protests from Bucky and Sam and pretty much everyone who had ever met Tony. Sam was certain it was going to be a ridiculous, over the top affair complete with strippers jumping out of cakes, but it actually ended up being a lot of fun. They drank really good whiskey and played video games on Tony’s state-of-the-art system and there wasn’t a g-string in sight.

Sam was leaning over the railing of the mezzanine (because of course Tony’s living room had a mezzanine) when Bucky approached him.

“Well, Sam, looks like we made it.”

“What do you mean?”

He gestured towards where Steve was on the couch, laughing with Jim and Gabe. “In two days, our boy over there will be married and we’ll have managed to help him plan a wedding without killing each other.”

“You may be right, but I’m sure you could find a way to inspire me to murder you in just two days. Seems a bit premature to start celebrating.”

Bucky bumped his shoulder with his own. “Come on, admit it. You don’t hate me as much as you pretend you do.”

Sam looked over at him, recognizing the tease in his smile and the glint in his eye. He found himself grinning back. “Yeah, alright. You’re not the _worst_ person I’ve ever met.”

Silence settled around them, as if someone had turned down the volume of rest of the party. They were leaning against the railing barely a hand's width apart, smiling at each other, and Sam thought maybe Bucky was about to say something when all of a sudden Tony came up behind them and threw his arms around their shoulders.

“Sammy! Buckaroo! Best of men! What are you doing over here by yourselves?” Tony might have restrained himself with the party, but he’d definitely had a few drinks. “You’re missing all the fun! Gabe’s about to tell us about that time Steve did the performance art thing during his sophomore year. He says he has pictures!”

Bucky laughed. “I thought Steve deleted all of those. He always insisted there wasn’t any evidence left.”

“Apparently Gabe is much sneakier than we all knew,” Tony answered, herding them over to the rest of the party.

Sam tried not to think too much about what Bucky might have been about to say.

 

The morning of the wedding dawned clear and warm. A nightmare woke Sam early, and he went for a quick run to shake it off before going over the venue to meet the deliveries from the florist and the bakery. Bucky was picking up Peggy’s dress since she and Angie would be busy getting ready all morning, and Steve’s job was to try to avoid vibrating out of his skin from the excitement.

Sam hung up his tuxedo in the dressing area Maria led him to. It was basically just a glorified closet, but it was easier than getting dressed at home and then having to worry about the tux all day, or trying to run back to his apartment to change and risk being late.

He had just finished helping the florist bring in all the centerpieces when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Have you heard from Bucky today?”

“Nope. I was actually gonna call you if he hadn’t shown up in the next half hour or so. I figured he was probably still with Peggy and Angie, flirting with the hairdresser or something.”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Steve’s voice sounded strained. “He never actually brought the dress to Peggy, and she’s getting kind of worried. He’s not picking up his phone either.”

Well, that was just great. Sam checked the time on his phone quickly and shifted into triage mode.

“Okay, here’s the plan. The flowers are here, but we’re still waiting on the cake. You come on over to the restaurant to meet the delivery guy from the bakery, and bring your tux with you. You can just get ready here instead of at home. I’ll go pick up the dress and take it to Peggy. Hopefully Bucky will get in touch soon.”

Sam heard Steve take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, that sounds good. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you, Sam.”

“No worries, man. Just doing my job. It’s all gonna be just fine — you’re getting married today!”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Sam could hear the smile in Steve’s voice.

“Alright, I’m gonna go. See you in a bit.” He hung up and took a deep breath himself. He was gonna fucking kill Bucky.

 

The universe was on his side, thankfully, and Sam was able to pick up the dress and get it to Peggy without too much fuss. She was going to be a bit pressed for time, but Bucky hadn’t actually managed to completely ruin things.

He gave Peggy a quick hug and then rushed back to the venue to make sure things were still running smoothly there. He was glad to find that the flowers had gotten set up and the cake was ready to go. Maria was reassuring him that everything was perfectly in order on her end — not that he was surprised — when Bucky ran in.

“I know, I’m late. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Steve said you were able to get the dress to Peggy?” He was out of breath and his hair looked like something had nested in it.

Sam snapped. “Man, what the hell? Where have you been? Was having a good time last night more important than Steve’s wedding? Were you too hungover to get out of bed? Or did your latest fuck turn your alarm off?”

Bucky’s head jerked back as if he had been slapped. “Fuck you, Sam.” He tried to brush past him, but Sam wasn’t going to back down.

“You’re not even going to _try_ to explain?”

Bucky ground his teeth together and clenched his fists, but didn’t say anything. God, Sam wanted to punch him. He let himself imagine it for just a second - his fist connecting with Bucky’s nose, Bucky’s head snapping back, the satisfying crunch and the blood that would follow.

Okay, that was a little not good. Think about Steve. He could pull himself together and not break his co-best man’s face for Steve, his best friend, the guy who had been there for him through thick and thin.

“Fine, whatever. Do the sullen, silent thing. I’m gonna go get ready.” Sam stalked off to the dressing area to try and calm down.

 

One of the restaurant employees knocked just as he finished tying his tie, and he opened the door.

“Sam? Do you know where Steve is?”

“Um, I’m not sure. Maybe in the restroom? What’s up?”

“Maria had a question for him. When you see him, could you send him up to the front for just a minute?”

“Sure thing.”

Sam went to check the restroom, but paused when he saw that Steve was talking to Bucky. They didn’t notice him, and he knew he should just turn around, but he wanted to hear what Bucky had to say for himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I fucked everything up.” Bucky looked like he was trying to tear his hair out of his head. Steve grabbed his hands and stilled them.

“Nothing’s fucked up. Peggy’s almost here, our friends are here, everything’s fine. Right now I’m just worried about you.”

“I feel like such an idiot.” Bucky pulled away from Steve and leaned against the counter. “I was on my way to pick up Peggy’s dress, plenty of time to spare. And then, I don’t know, there was a smell or a sound or something, and I just lost it. Next thing I know I’m crouched in an alley, there’s an EMT asking me if I know my name, where I am, what year it is. I don’t even know how long I was there before someone finally called 911.”

Shit. And then Sam had yelled at him and accused him of not caring about Steve and generally been a huge ass. Shit.

He watched Steve wrap his arms around Bucky. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re here now, you’re safe. That’s more important than a stupid dress, and you know Peggy would say the same.”

“I just, I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted to be a good best man, I wanted to prove that I could do it, and I couldn’t even handle a simple errand.”

Steve pulled back and held Bucky’s face between his hands. “Bucky, you have been an _amazing_ best man. I don’t need everything to be perfect. I just need to marry the woman I love with my best friends by my side. And I’ve got that. So how about you try to give yourself a little slack, okay?”

Bucky nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah, okay, let’s do this. We’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Sam decided now was as good a time as any to interrupt. He backed up so they wouldn’t know he had overheard, then called out as he reentered the restroom. “Hey Steve?”

Steve looked over at him, but Bucky just stayed where he was, hiding behind a curtain of hair. “What’s up, Sam?”

“Maria needs you for a minute. She’s up at the front of the restaurant.”

“Okay, great.” He turned back to Bucky. “You all good?”

Bucky nodded. Steve gave him one last hug, then went to go see what Maria needed.

“Um, Bucky?”

“What?” Bucky growled. “You come to yell at me some more? Tell me about something else I fucked up?”

“Uh, no.” Sam took a step towards him, but stopped when he saw his shoulders stiffen. “I just— I’m sorry about earlier. I’ve had a lot—” He shook his head. “No, that doesn’t matter. I was totally out of line, and I’m sorry.”

“Is that it?” Bucky didn’t move, just looked at him, eyes full of ice. Sam didn’t blame him.

“Yeah, that’s it. We’ve got about half an hour until showtime.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Okay.” Sam turned at that and left the restroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Bucky has a panic attack/dissociative episode off screen that he later recounts to Steve.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got impatient, so here's the final chapter! Thanks to everyone for cheering this fic along. It's been super fun and I hope y'all have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing.
> 
> A final gigantic thanks to pringlesaremydivision, my ever-helpful cheerleader.

Despite the earlier drama with the dress, the ceremony went off without a hitch. Peggy looked radiant and Sam was sure Steve was going to explode from joy at any minute. Even Steve fumbling the ring when Bucky handed it to him and nearly dropping it came across as an endearing addition to the ceremony rather than an awkward mistake.

Once the ceremony was over and dinner was in full swing, Sam could feel some of the ice between him and Bucky begin to thaw. As part of the wedding party, they were seated at the same table, of course, and with everyone else so full of joy and laughter, it was impossible not to join in. He was hesitant to tease Bucky after their earlier confrontation and conversation was still a bit stilted, but Sam had a glimmer of hope that maybe they could regain some sort of equilibrium.

After dinner came the toasts. Angie’s nearly brought the room to tears as she talked about her friendship with Peggy and how wonderful it had been to watch her relationship with Steve grow, but she finished by threatening Steve so specifically and inventively if he ever broke Peggy’s heart that they all laughed instead.

Sam thanked Steve for being such a supportive friend, for encouraging him to go back to school and get his master’s, and for allowing him to fulfill his lifelong dream of going to a cake tasting. Bucky shared some embarrassing stories from the past of schoolyard fights and dates gone wrong and then actually did bring the room to tears when he told Steve how happy he knew his mom would be for him if she were there.

Once everyone recovered from that, Maria’s staff cleared away some of the tables to create space for a dance floor. Steve and Peggy had their first dance, gazing into each other’s eyes and looking sickeningly happy, and then all of their friends joined them, helped along by the wine that had been flowing liberally all evening.

Sam eventually took a break from dancing and grabbed a drink, then noticed Bucky sitting on his own at one of the tables, tie loosened and jacket slung over the back of the chair, a few pieces of hair that had come loose hanging in his face.

“You know, I think I’m actually gonna miss hanging out with you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Save it, Wilson. I know you hate me.” Normally there would have been a hint of teasing in Bucky’s voice, but this time it was noticeably absent.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t hate you, Bucky.”

Bucky scoffed and took a sip of his drink.

“I’m serious, man. I really, really don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever could.”

Bucky studied him for a moment, brow furrowed. “But...all this time…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sam watched Steve and Peggy laughing in each other’s arms on the dance floor. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could fix things. “Look, when we hooked up, Leila had just left me for another guy and I was pretty messed up. When you didn’t call afterwards, I was a lot more upset than I expected to be.”

“But...it was just a hook up. A couple of guys having a good time. I thought we both knew what we were after.”

“No, you’re right. This is totally on me — you didn’t do anything wrong. I should have known I wasn’t in a good headspace for that kind of thing. But then when you turned out to be, well, _you_ , and it seemed like you didn’t even want to acknowledge that it happened...it was like I was getting rejected all over again. And instead of recognizing what I was feeling and dealing with it like a mature adult, I ignored it and pretended it didn’t exist.” He gave Bucky a wry smile. “I can be kind of an idiot, sometimes. My therapist and I are working on it.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, I don’t hate you, and I’m sorry I was such a dick to you for the past two years.”

“Well, it’s not like you were the only one. I gave just as good as I got.” Bucky finished off his drink. “I’m sorry too. I assumed you were judging me, and figured that pushing all your buttons was the best way to show you I didn’t care. I can be a little insecure at times.” His lips quirked into a half smile. “My therapist and I are working on it.”

Sam laughed and the half smile widened into a full one.

“So we’re both idiots. Think we can manage to be friends, too?”

Bucky looked at him, considering. “Is that really what you want, Sam? To be friends?”

Sam looked back, not flinching away from the eye contact. “I want whatever you’re willing to give, Bucky.”

It felt like an eternity before Bucky spoke again, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Finally he shifted in his seat and leaned in towards Sam.

“What if I told you I wanted to give you the best blow job of your life in that bathroom over there?”

Sam grinned and placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh. “I’d say that sounds great, but I’d much rather have you take me apart in the comfort of a bed.”

Bucky tugged on his tie, pulling him in. “My place is closer.”

“Think it’s alright if we leave before the bride and groom do?” He reached up with his other hand to twirl one of the locks of hair that had escaped from Bucky’s bun around his finger, brushing against his cheek as he did.

“I’m sure they’ll forgive us. Besides, we did all the planning; Angie can handle the clean up.”

Bucky closed the distance between them, turning Sam’s laugh into a groan. He was still a really excellent kisser.

When they broke apart, Sam stood up and held out his hand to Bucky. Bucky took it, lacing their fingers together with a grin. As he turned to grab his jacket off the back of the chair, Sam caught Steve’s eye across the room. If his eyebrows had been raised any further, they would have disappeared into his hairline. Sam just smiled and shrugged, then gestured towards the door. Steve laughed and shook his head, then gave them a thumbs up before turning his attention back to Peggy.

 

While their first time had been frenzied and rough, this time was slow and sweet, although no less passionate. Bucky made good on his promise, sucking Sam off as he opened him with his fingers, slow and teasing and never quite giving Sam exactly what he wanted. It was torture, but it was perfect.

When he was finally satisfied that Sam was ready, Bucky kissed his way up his body and reclaimed his mouth. Sam wrapped his legs around his waist as Bucky sunk in slowly, making sure Sam could feel every inch. When he was flush against him, Bucky paused, looking at Sam like he’d never really seen him before.

Sam threaded his fingers into Bucky’s hair and pulled him back down into a kiss. He arched his back and pressed his heels into Bucky’s ass, urging him to move. Bucky obliged, pulling almost all the way out and then pressing back in slowly, groaning into Sam’s mouth.

Bucky picked up his pace eventually, but they stayed pressed together, kissing sloppily and nipping at each other’s lips and eventually just panting together, sharing air. Their bodies grew slick with sweat and Sam was sure nothing had ever felt as good as the hair on Bucky’s stomach scraping against his dick did, until Bucky reached down and started stroking him in tandem with the thrust of his hips.

Warmth coiled in the base of his spine and his fingertips tingled, sparks shooting through his body whenever Bucky brushed against that one particular spot. When he came, it wasn’t the explosion it had been the last time, but rather a wave, building and cresting and finally crashing down, pulling him under.

Bucky came shortly after and collapsed half on top of him, both of them breathing heavily. He spent a few minutes enjoying the weight of Bucky’s head on his shoulder, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey Bucky?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky answered.

“Wanna go out sometime?”

“Sure, Sam.” Bucky smiled, still not opening his eyes. “That sounds nice.”

“No more random hook-ups, though. I don’t do well with sharing.”

Bucky looked up at him them, eyes full of the mischief Sam had come to love. “I don’t know...you gonna be able to keep me satisfied?”

Sam grinned back at him. “I think I’ll be able to manage.”

“You sure? You seem pretty tired.”

Before Bucky could react, Sam grabbed him and flipped them over, settling all his weight on Bucky and sucking a bruise into his neck. Bucky’s hand came up to the back of his head and Sam released him, moving up to rub their noses together and reaching down to run a finger over Bucky’s still sensitive cock. “Do I seem tired now?”

Bucky shivered. “Nope.” He leaned up and nipped at Sam’s lower lip. “Not tired at all.”

“Well, okay then.” Sam pushed up onto his elbows, gazing at Bucky’s face. He was sure he looked ridiculously sappy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Bucky reached up and cupped the side of his face, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “Well, okay then.”

He pulled Sam back down into a kiss. It was slow and lazy and full of all the things Sam wanted to say but hadn’t gotten around to yet. Those things could wait, though. Right now all he wanted to do was keeping kissing Bucky as long as he could.

 

**Epilogue**

“Any big anniversary plans tonight?” Carol asked. They were in Sam’s classroom trying to scarf down a quick lunch and get some grading done at the same time. His first year of teaching had been completely insane, but he loved it. It helped that he had Bucky to get him out of his head when he need to.

“Nothing big — just dinner and a quiet night at home.”

“Quiet, huh?” Carol smirked at him.

“Quit it.”

“Mr. Wilson?” A student office aide knocked on his doorway, peeking her head into the classroom.

“Hey, Kamala. What’s up?”

She came in carrying a huge bouquet of red, yellow, and orange flowers. “These were just delivered for you.” She set the vase on the desk, in the one spot that wasn’t covered in a pile of paper.

“Aww, how sweet,” Carol teased.

“Shut up, you.” Sam pulled out the card and opened it. “Thank you, Kamala.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Wilson.”

Sam opened the card and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

“Oh my god, what is on that card?” He just kept laughing as he handed the card over to Carol.

“Yellow carnations - disdain, scarlet geraniums - stupidity, orange lilies - hatred...happy anniversary, asshole.” Carol raised an eyebrow at him. “You guys are really weird.”

Sam just wiped his eyes and pulled out his phone. “It’s an inside joke.”

“Obviously.”

 _I hate you, too_ , he texted.

_Happy anniversary, dick_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to kikidiesunddas over on tumblr for tracking down those flower meanings - you're the best!


End file.
